


Lost and Found

by OfDarkMind



Category: The Hobbit - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-22
Updated: 2013-12-22
Packaged: 2018-01-05 14:05:16
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,008
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1094791
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/OfDarkMind/pseuds/OfDarkMind
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Just a little drabble. This too was on FF.net. A little bit of Bilbo finding Thorin in his cell in Thranduil's prison. This is more book-verse as anyone who has read the book knows that Thorin was put in the deepest and darkest cell and quite separated from the other dwarves. Bilbo/Thorin. Angsty. Some sad thoughts from Thorin. And if you love ALL the dwarves like I do, then it may be painful to read what Thorin thinks. The most that happens in this drabble is a kiss. So no nooky.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Lost and Found

Echoes of gentle song floated down the halls of Thranduil’s palace where Bilbo had wandered around for weeks, sneaking food and drink and corners to kip in until he could work out how best to get the dwarves out of incarceration by the elves of Mirkwood. All the while Bilbo wandered up and down a great many golden, splendid, dark and ominously beautiful halls and passages, knowing where twelve of the dwarves were contained, but not knowing the whereabouts of one. He thought longingly and fearfully about the fate of Thorin… the company leader… who had gone missing after Bilbo had helped them escape from the spiders. Thorin… the one dwarf who had given him more than just a chance at being more than his bucolic life offered him.  
Thorin had taken him into the company at the behest of Gandalf… without really trusting he was up for the task of being a burglar… consistently questioning his abilities throughout the entire escapade until that moment Bilbo shined bright enough to catch Thorin’s eyes like a twinkling gem with its own luminance in the midst of the dark cavernous maw under a mountain. The way Bilbo drew Thorin’s eyes at the moment of enlightenment was like the halfling had been a focal point on the cusp of certain death that the halfling, someone Thorin supposed to not posses more than the skill to blow smoke rings better than he, snatched him from those jaws like a thief in the night. That perhaps is why Gandalf wanted him to be a burglar… or expert treasure hunter… for Bilbo plucked that precious dwarf from a demise unfitting a king and landed him safely in the arms of the hobbit who saved and stole him at the same time.  
Of course, it took a lot of trial to bring out the best of Bilbo, he thought to himself as he wandered the halls alone, with the ring on his finger, hardly making a breath of sound as he walked by elves on their own mission to which meant little to nothing to Bilbo. Days and days he toiled up and down the halls and rooms, looking for other ways to get out of the domain of their captors. He managed by idle following of a random peasant looking elf, Bilbo only figured he was lower status by the plain clothing he wore as oppose to Thranduil, who was sheer perfection of stately elegance, down a side corridor lined with tunnels of rock and dirt with creeping roots spread from floor to rounded ceiling. Before long, this elf, who was singing to himself, came across another with different clothing, though still not in the same category as the king.  
“Have you brought nourishment down for the prisoner? He is need of food and drink. Prisoner he may be, but cruel punishment of starving is uncalled for.” One elf said to the other. Bilbo listened to their sing song voices as they spoke, his ears perking to pick up on their conversation without getting close enough to them should he trip and fall over his feet or move a stone on the floor. Elves sense of hearing is much keener than the silence a hobbit can show when attempting to be so.  
“He has been fed already. We can’t give him too much because we don’t want him to regain strength. You know full well the strength of an angered dwarf.” One elf said. The second elf scowled.  
“Beastly creatures. All they ever think about is violence.”  
“And their treasures. Still… I feel sorry for this one. Our lord has him put away so deep it would be quite easy to forget he is down here lest traffic come by frequently. The others are farther up where they can be heard grumbling and complaining until they get their food and drink.” The first elf said sadly.  
“Think you not speak of prisoners so lightly where they can hear you? They may work their dwarvish magic on you; coerce you to let them free.”  
“Dwarves have no dominion of power over elves, Perida… Besides, this wretched dwarf is so weak from malnourishment that he can barely stay awake let alone speak words of magic to mislead me.” Said the first elf. Bilbo heard everything and listened with bated breath… there could be no other reason to believe that the dwarf that is this deep in the elf kings palace isn’t Thorin… how many dwarf’s came into the woods around the same time the thirteen did? Bilbo stood still but poised to follow, hoping that at least one of the elves would lead him to where this captive dwarf lay so far away from the others.  
“Are you going in that direction?” Perida asked. The first elf nodded.  
“Yes, it is time for the allotted check of the prisoners, Ellidar. He is not removed from the routine.”  
Bilbo smiled a little. If he could follow this Ellidar down to where the other hidden dwarf is, he could find out for certain what he felt he already knew… and his heart hammered. Ellidar bowed respectfully to the second and received the same courtesy in return. The elf started off again, Bilbo felt that if he had come down here on his own he may have been lost into insanity. It is obvious this elf knew where the dungeon was, but a good length of time passed before Bilbo felt any progress was made in approaching that section of the castles city vastness where he hoped to find Thorin.  
His heart jumped in his chest, impatient to see… wanting to look at Thorin, so those warm blue eyes could smolder him, hear his voice, and feel him near. He wanted to shout at the elf to ‘get moving’ but most assuredly unwise. Finally after what seemed hours delving deeper into the tunnels of this place and after many turns and stops to speak to other elves, there was an opening to an ever darker chasm to which no light met. Bilbo thought it may be overly cruel… he didn’t think elves could be so malicious. What sort of heathen outside the realms of Mordor and the realms of the faded Melkor would leave a man, elf or dwarf in the dark? What had this prisoner done to be shut out from light and any glimmer of hope but from what the scarce light of the hall beyond offered?  
As Ellidar walked into the cavern, set at the back was a lonely cell dug into the rock with dingy metal bars holding a single body behind it curled up on the floor with his back to them. The elf pulled out a vial from a faded satchel on his side that glowed white blue, the way Bilbo’s sword Sting glowed when orcs or goblins were nearby. Bilbo wondered if this vial was the same magic that made his sword respond to danger. He thought it was ridiculous. If that is Thorin… or even if it isn’t, what sort of danger would a starved and desolate dwarf behind bars be to anyone? And to an elf at that, whether they had the light of the Valar or not.  
“Are you awake, little dwarf?” The elf asked. He whispered as if trying to ask in a manner that felt to Bilbo like he did not want to be heard conversing with the prisoner. The dwarf did not stir from his resting place.  
“I am leaving you this fruit. Please try to eat it before the next guard comes down.” Ellidar said sadly and placed a large gleaming red apple on the floor just inside the cell bars, trusting to reach in, knowing the prisoner would not harm him for he had done this many times before and would come back to find fruit or bread left for the dwarf missing, knowing the dwarf must have eaten it, there was naught else he could have done with it, unless someone else came and took it from him, but that can’t have happened either… if someone knew he was leaving bits of food for the prisoner, then Thranduil would be inquiring of them who exactly was giving the dwarf more that his preset ration.  
The elf just looked at the dwarf in the cell on his side for a moment longer, sadly wishing he could do more… but still did not trust the dwarf enough to just let him go and did not wish to completely disobey his lord. He stood and looked at the prisoner for a few more seconds, turned first his head away, his radiant golden white hair agleam of its own without the light shimmered for a moment before the rest of him followed suit, stuffing the glowing vial back in the satchel and out of the cavern leaving Bilbo alone with the captive.  
Bilbo watched and listened until he could no longer hear any sound, even going to the mouth of the cavern to see if he could see any movement and there was none that he could see. He did hear a soft movement behind him and a barely audible exhale of hair from weak lungs. His ears perked back and he turned his head. In the darkness near the cell, there was an even deeper darkness where only the red gleam of the apple could scarcely be seen, the movement sounded. Then as if the darkness had swallowed it whole, the red tint of the apple faded into the dark of the deepest black of the cell before Bilbo could hear a hasty bite of teeth through apple skin and meat, then another…and another.  
“H…hello?” Bilbo whispered and the faint sigh of his voice sounded like a whip crack to his own ears. He flinched, as apparently did the dwarf inside the cell. Bilbo heard a gasp and shuffled movement from the cell. Bilbo walked toward the cell slowly, almost afraid to approach in such darkness but the movement stopped all together in the cell and Bilbo wasn’t sure about revealing himself yet.  
“Who is that?!” Thorin growled weakly from inside the cell where Bilbo couldn’t see him, even with his face pressed between the bars.  
“It’s me… Thorin… It’s me, Bilbo.” Bilbo whispered. Silence for a moment and then shuffling so light, Bilbo could barely tell where it was coming from, he felt fingers touch his cheek as the made to grab the bar his face was near. A pale face, waxen in the dark loomed to the front like an apparition and Thorin was almost nose to nose with the hobbit before they could see each other. Thorin’s eyes grew large and bright, glassy with satisfied respite.  
“Bilbo…I thought never to see you again… I thought I would die in here.” He said weakly, his forehead coming forward to press to Bilbo’s who too leaned into the touch. Bilbo’s eyes closed at the weak and pathetic slur and fragility of Thorin’s voice, weeks he had been down here, weeks he had not seen light and given a proper meal befitting a dwarf…  
“No, Thorin… don’t. I am here now. I will get you out.” Bilbo whispered sadly as his hand came up and clasped over Thorin’s that held to the cell bar.  
“I was considering telling the elf king everything about our quest… about the gold of Erebor… I just wanted to be released… to find you, to find the others, I have been weary and sick with much grief.’ Thorin’s eyes were closed for a moment before pulling away slightly, but still close enough that Bilbo could smell the apple on his breath.  
“Where are the others? Are they alright?” Thorin asked with a note of trepidation in his voice. All he could think about was his friends, who were last seen behind him running blindly and poisoned through the dark woods and being recaptured by the spiders and eaten. Poor Balin, the oldest of their company and his dearest friend dead and withered with great fang holes in his chest. Dwalin, a great warrior reduced to spider food, a death he would not have wanted for himself as he watched his older brother die before him. Poor Bombur, the fattest reduced to almost nothing leaving eight children behind as Bofur’s merry beautiful face left frozen in terror and pain a musical voice of laughter left cold and silent. Oin and Gloin, who left wives and children behind; fierce warriors reduced to dust… Bifur who couldn’t even articulate his fear and died alone in his own head, knowing others may reach and call for him but never a flinch he makes. Dori, Nori and Ori screaming for each other as their brothers died before them until the last scream of their line was silenced. And Mahal… his nephews Fili and Kili… whom he failed to protect… whom he would have to pay in grief for the rest of his life while his sister cries for her sons. He would give everything… his life, his gold, his throne to have them all in his arms right now. His eyes, glassy with hurt looked down vaguely to the floor as his thoughts overcame him.  
“They are here.’ Bilbo whispered. Thorin gasped and smiled as best he could, the tremble he was not one to be proud of showing came freely, it was just how much his friends and family meant to him. “They are in cells high above here. They have been here, myself included, for weeks. I just didn’t know this place was here or I would have been here sooner. I still would not have known it was here if I hadn’t followed the elf that gave you the apple.”  
“Do not speak of the elves just now…’ Thorin whispered. He put his hand between the bars and grasped for Bilbo’s jacket and pulled him closer. “Come here.” He said in a gentle demand. Bilbo, when looked at the way Thorin was regarding at him, the heavy gaze that said more than merely ‘I wish to look at you’, flushed and allowed himself to be pulled tenderly toward Thorin, thinking back to that night in Beorn’s house.  
“Thorin…’ Bilbo muttered as Thorin’s hand came up deftly between the bars and the halfling’s jaw, took the slender face in his hand and pulled their lips together in a fierce kiss that tasted of apples and desperation. Bilbo’s hands too came up and gripped at the shabby blue cotton tunic Thorin was left wearing, struggling for purchase as a powerful wave of love hit him in the eagerness of the kiss. The kiss ended as their lips separated but still lingered in the blossom of radiance in both their faces and in their hearts.  
“We owe you our lives, Bilbo. I owe you mine and a mountain of gratitude over any percentage of gold and jewels.’ Thorin appraised Bilbo devotedly. Passive and placid, so unlike Thorin to seem so tame and pitiful. Bilbo knew if he was at full strength his humbled modesty would be forced at best… usually Thorin was very deep in bitter thought or very smug about himself and his importance. It is expected of his kind, he is of the line of Durin after all. Thorin is much stronger in his full strength than this slightly withdrawn dwarf now. Bilbo reached out and took an oily bunch of Thorin’s hair in his hand and pulled back, letting its silkiness slip through his fingers.  
“I told you I would do what I could to help you take your home back. I meant it. Besides, I think I would need to be able to find us a way out of here before you start praising me again. If I was terribly cunning and crafty I would have found you long ago and we would not be here.” Bilbo said softly.  
“The best laid plans are not always whims. Sometimes it takes scholars many days, months… generations can pass before an answer is found’ Thorin whispered and ran his knuckles over Bilbo’s cheek. ‘ It’s more than just about Erebor now. It’s about us. The Company… our friends. It’s about you… me… the camaraderie I have longed for with someone equal to me.” Thorin whispered desperately. Bilbo shook his head.  
“I am not an equal to you. A halfling has no power to sit among kingly figures.” Bilbo said airily.  
“I set you at higher value than the most precious Arkenstone, my little halfling.” Thorin’s voice grew slightly stronger, a fierceness in his declaration giving the statements stronger meaning as if saying it with all his might made it all the more true and factual.  
“What worth is that in number?” Bilbo asked, already knowing what Thorin would say before it slipped from his mouth.  
“Priceless, my little hobbit… priceless.”  
Bilbo pulled up a bit, feeling his heart ache in his chest at Thorin’s words. He stood fully on his knees, pressing his body to the bars, his hands gripping the metal ingot hard as he whispered softly with a quiver in his voice.  
“I love you, Thorin Oakensheild.” The halfling said. “No matter what the future brings. I love you.”  
“Bilbo…” Thorin looked at the smaller form in the spaces of the bars and was enamored by the words.  
“I would still be a plain old hobbit of the Shire if you hadn’t allowed me to come with the company. I would go on… unknown… but you have given me purpose. And my purpose is here, with you. My duty is to you and the company.” Bilbo said. But before Thorin could say anything to this, Bilbo got up and slipped the ring back on his finger. Any vision Thorin had of the hobbit, however poor, was completely gone now but he could still hear him.  
“I will find a way to release you. When I have. Then you can praise me and I won’t stop you.” Then he turned away.


End file.
